


No Pulse

by Asynca



Series: Ready, Set, Go! - Speed Prompts [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-21 13:50:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7389511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asynca/pseuds/Asynca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have a theory about Mercy experimenting with immortality with her nanotechnology, and Pharah is the ideal character to help me explore it! Speed Prompt, written in 78 minutes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Pulse

 

I.

The first time I knew something was wrong with Mercy was when I misjudged the thrust I needed to get to a ledge and overshot it, nearly landing _both_ Mercy and I over the edge of a cliff and into the sea.

In terrible slow motion, I watched the sea approach—I would sink like a _rock_ in the Raptora—as I desperately hammered my empty thrusters and _begged_ them to unchoke. In the end they did, and we shot back into the sky and landed on the ledge I'd aimed for in the first place.

My heart was _pounding_ and I was _panting_ like I'd just fought the entire opposing team by myself, but Mercy was just standing still beside me with a serene smile on her face.

I gave her a weird look. "We just both nearly _died_ ," I pointed out. "How the hell are you smiling about that?"

She just laughed pleasantly. "There's no point in getting flustered! It doesn't help."

" _Right_ ," I said dryly, and then shot back into the sky with her merrily tethered to me by the Caduseus staff.

Maybe her 'amazing medical technology' was actually just _serious_ drugs.

* * *

II.

The second clue I got was while we were fighting on _my_ home turf: the Temple of Anubis. It was a sweltering Egyptian Summer and easily 40C+ out—not to mention how intense the midday sun was—and with the burners heating the backs of my calves as well, I think I sweat out the entire water content of my body before we'd even left the ship. I'd forgotten how much I _hated_ fighting in summer.

One glance behind me, though, and I thought the heat had made me hallucinate: Mercy wasn't red-faced and sweating buckets like I was. Her skin was still white as milk and she hadn't broken a sweat at all. In fact, she was busy gazing upwards at the sun like she was _enjoying_ the warmth.

She saw me looking. "Lovely day to be flying, isn't it?" she called. "Not a cloud in the sky!"

* * *

III.

The final clincher was when we both got caught in melee, and while I tried my hardest to body-block her—my suit at least had _some_ armour—fucking _Roadhog_ got around me and absolutely cut her up while I _shouted_ at the top of my lungs. I couldn't fire a rocket as his feet because it would hurt both of us and probably not even scratch him, and I didn't have any cooldowns up on my Raptora. _God_ , the sound of her _screaming…_ I wasn't going to forget that very quickly—and I was punching at what felt like thin air as I felt _every microsecond of my thrusters recharging_ until I was _finally_ able to grab her as she fell and catapult us both back into the sky and far, far away from the scrum of melee.

I had her cradled in my arms, hanging onto her life by a thread. Her eyes were wide and I could see she was in considerable pain as she clutched at her middle where he'd torn her suit to shreds.

We couldn't lose her. The team wouldn't be the same without her—without that overly cheerful voice and being brought back from the brink of oblivion in a halo of golden light. I couldn't imagine flying through the skies without her cheerful voice behind me.

"It's okay," I told her, landing as gently as I could and laying her out on the decking as I rushed to grab a nearby medkit for her. "You're going to be fine, you are, we'll get you patched up…"

She laughed weakly. "That's _my_ line," she told me as she accepted the kit from me and started unwrapping bandages. It was a slow process; I was worried she'd pass out before she finished it. I hoped she wouldn't, I really hoped she wouldn't: I was no doctor, and while I'd had rudimentary first aid training, it wasn't enough to save someone's life without one.

I spotted her staff beside her, forgotten, and picked it up. "Can I use this on you?" I wondered, examining the control panel on it. It didn't look too difficult; I'd flown _fighter_ jets before, I'd be able to figure this out.

"It won't work on me," she said simply, pulling her hand away from her stomach while she quickly tried to bandage—

—there was no blood.

That made me double-take. Actually, her white suit should have been _soaked_ with the way Roadhog had been carving her, shouldn't it? There wasn't a drop to be seen anywhere, it was still pristine white, if in tatters. Now, I wasn't a doctor, but I did definitely know that people _bled_ when they were cut.

And I didn't know of _any_ technology that stopped _that_ from happening _before_ they were healed. Unless maybe she'd somehow healed herself...?

While I was staring at her, she finished wrapping the bandages around her middle and held out her hand so I could assist her to stand.

"That's better," she said brightly in German, brushing down the rest of her suit. "Now, where were we?"

I closed my jaw. There was no use in asking about it now; we had a payload to escort.

* * *

IV.

It had been a _long_ night out; I hadn't drank like that since I was in the army. Apparently victorious mercenaries were every bit as iron-livered as soldiers, and I was _hammered_ trying to keep up with them. My head was swimming as we got kicked out of the bar, and was vaguely aware of Reinhardt declaring loudly behind me to the barkeep, "Nonsense! I could drink _twice_ that amount and still not be 'drunk and disorderly'!"

We still got ejected, though.

Lena wouldn't stop imitating Amelie's accent and _giggling_ incessantly—until Amelie got sick of it and parted way with us. Lena was _still_ going even after she'd gone. " _Maybe I'll get lucky and you'll die of alcohol poisoning tonight_ …" She mimicked her, almost falling over from laughter.

I'd been watching Angela from what I had _thought_ was the corner of my eye and wondering about that lack of blood, when I tripped on something and I _actually_ fell over. ...Okay, apparently I had been watching her a little more closely than I thought.

Angela had had _her_ fair share of alcohol, too. " _No_!" she cried out with exaggerated drama, falling to her knees beside me and taking in me in her arms as if I'd been mortally wounded.

I was drunk enough to enjoy that _far_ more than I normally would have let myself; the chest-piece of her Valkyrie suit was moulded fibreglass, but the top she was wearing _wasn't_. Her chest was soft—I was rather enjoying having my cheek against it.

"Don't worry, Fareeha! I'll save you!" she called, " _Helden sterben nicht_!" She ceremoniously lowered a palm to my forehead.

Everyone else in the team was _laughing_ , and in the midst of it, I could feel _her_ ribs pulse as she laughed, too. I didn't want to get up. She was so warm and so soft, that was what I noticed the most. The women I'd slept women previously had been wiry and muscled like I was—not Angela, though. And hearing her laugh… I nestled into her chest for just a moment more as everyone overtook us up the footpath.

The hand that had been on my forehead stroked my hair. "Psst," she whispered close to my ear, like I'd forgotten my lines. "When I say that you're supposed to come back to life!"

I felt _quite_ alive at that moment. "I don't speak German," I told her, and was about to point out that one of my ears was buried in her chest and all I could hear was her breathing, and the beating of her—

—heart. Except… I _couldn't_ hear it, at all.

Suddenly, I felt much more sober. I pushed my ear closer to her chest, listening for even the faintest, tiniest beat.

She laughed, not understanding what I was doing. "Oof! I think you're supposed to buy me dinner first!"

There was nothing. Her chest was silent. No blood, no sweat, no heartbeat…

This _wasn't_ drugs.

I sat away from her, stunned. It must have shown in my face, because her cheery smile fell instantly when she saw my eyes moving between her face and her chest. "... _Oh_."

I didn't—I mean—how—but she was _warm_? I couldn't even figure out how to _ask_ what was going on.

She immediately looked very serious. "Listen," she said somewhat grimly. "There's something I need to tell you about me."


End file.
